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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29626290">The Galar Games</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentwhisper002/pseuds/silentwhisper002'>silentwhisper002</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sword &amp; Shield | Pokemon Sword &amp; Shield Versions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A lot of running from things goes on in this fic, ALL THE ANGST, Action/Adventure, Angst, Because yes, Beet | Bede Being an Asshole, Contrary Lurantis because Lurantis is cool, Gen, Gloria needs so much therapy, Hop has no braincells, Hunger Games AU, I not so low key traumatize everyone-, Leon also needs therapy, Lots of Angst, Lots of Death Lots of Angst, Marnie lost all her braincells in the Slumbering Weald, No Heavy Gore, Nothing is too graphically described, Rose can kindly perish now, So do Hop Marnie and Bede ngl, Sonia somehow stays sane, THERE'S NO STOPPING THE ANGST TRAIN NOW-, This idea came to me in a matter of 15 seconds in a discord chat, We do get some good humor though, Why Did I Write This?, just kiding, someone please stop me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:48:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,959</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29626290</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentwhisper002/pseuds/silentwhisper002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year, in a process called "The Selection", Wyndon's Pokemon League picks a male and female trainer from each area of Galar to participate in a series of life threatening challenges for televised entertainment. The objective? Defeat each challenge before it defeats you. </p><p>Young Gloria Glaswood, daughter of Galar's regional professor, has never worried about The Selection before, until it's her that's walking to the podium.</p><p>----</p><p>A Pokemon Sword and Shield Hunger Games AU where the gym challenge is like one deadly game show but this time the contestants aren't focused on killing each other, the challenges take care of that for them. </p><p>Disclaimer: THERE ARE NO OVERLY-GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF DEATH OR HEAVY GORE INCLUDED IN THIS WORK, BUT THERE IS A HEAVY DEATH COUNT SO IF THAT IS A DISCOMFORT TO YOU, I DO NOT RECOMMEND READING THIS FIC.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beet | Bede &amp; Hop &amp; Mary | Marnie &amp; Yuuri | Gloria, Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan, Hop &amp; Yuuri | Gloria, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Judgement Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mornings had always been one of Gloria’s favorite parts of the day. Sunrises were quiet in Wedgehurst, allowing her to wake up at her own leisure, though it was normally by the clanging of pots and pans—her mother was an even earlier riser than she. Yet once she was up, she’d open a window and let in the cool, country air, just allowing herself to relish in the picture perfect moment, before making her bed and finding her way down to the kitchen.</p><p>It was tradition in the Glaswood household that breakfast was the “Family Meal of the Day'' because both Gloria’s mother, Sonia, and grandmother, Magnolia, were Pokemon Professors, constantly busied with work, so first light was the only time the three of them collectively gathered in one space for more than ten minutes.</p><p>On a good day, Sonia might make pancakes or biscuits, Gloria fetching her ingredients from the cupboard and eggs from the outside, and then they’d go for a stroll down her street before Sonia would drop Gloria off at her best friend Hop’s house for the rest of the afternoon.</p><p>However, today was not one of those days. </p><p>Gloria did not rush to her feet at the ruckus of kitchenware, in fact, no sound arose from the downstairs area at all, an eerie silence blanketing the house in its place. </p><p>Gloria brought her white, Wooloo-woolen blanket further over her short mop of auburn hair and shut her green eyes tight, not wanting to think about what this particular day entailed. </p><p>The Selection.</p><p>She knew the drill, never dreading it before, but then again, the dawning events hadn’t directly affected her until now.</p><p>Every year has that one particular twenty-four hour time-slot that no one utters a word of, but everyone knows is coming, and for the people of Galar, today was that day.</p><p>The Selection was a process in which two children from every city and town—one boy, one girl—between the ages of eleven and seventeen were selected to participate in the region’s most daunting event of the year. </p><p>The Galar Games.</p><p>Gloria knew it’s story by heart. </p><p>Dating back to almost eighty years before her time, a man by the name of Damien Rose took leadership of the Galar Region, bringing with him a suitcase full of brutal treachery. For his own sick entertainment, Damien created the games as a yearly event. A colossal arena was built in Galar’s Metropolitan capitol, Wyndon, and inside it’s walls lay a maze of life-threatening obstacles and challenges for his “players" to face, and as if that wasn’t enough, those who came out alive, were burdened with the task of creating the next year’s round of torture. </p><p>The region was torn over this, some folks not minding the entertainment, believing that it could never happen to them (Cough, cough, the privileged citizens of Wyndon), while others hoped that Damien’s son, Acacius, may be different and halt the massacre, but alas he’d been raised the same, and so the bloodshed raged on. </p><p>Before, the games had been nothing more than a history lesson for Gloria. Something to write a report on for class, then never revisit again. </p><p>However, this year—only a month ago, in fact—Gloria turned eleven, which meant <em>her</em> name was now up for grabs. </p><p>Even the thought made her sick, and the soft knock on her door that soon followed almost forced bile up her throat. </p><p>“Gloria?”</p><p>Gloria heard the wooden door to her room creak open, the hallway light filtering in onto the pink-papered walls. </p><p>She pulled the blanket down a little and peeked open an eye. </p><p>Her mother leaned against the doorframe, a pale hand clasping the handle so tight, the tenison painted her knuckles white. Sonia’s half-kempt, red hair and heavy eyes told Gloria that her mother hadn’t slept a wink last night. The eleven year-old couldn’t blame her. She was in the same boat.</p><p>“Hey,” her mother spoke softly at the appearance of her daughter’s face, “there you are.” She pushed the door open all the way. “Come on, Scatterbug, you’ve got to get up now. We don’t want to keep Hop and Leon waiting, and your grandmother’s got a little present for you.”</p><p>Sonia wasn’t even trying to hide the fakeness of her chipper tone. </p><p>“Okay.” Gloria’s voice came out small and timid, similar to how she felt. </p><p>Sonia passed her daughter a barely-there smile, and retreated into the hallway, closing the door behind her.</p><p>Waiting until after she was gone, Gloria slowly forced herself up against the arched, white frame of her bed that her Uncle Leon built for her. Leon’s younger brother―who also happened to be her best friend―Hop, had an identical one, as both were born around the same time. </p><p>Pushing the blankets off her body, Gloria slipped out of bed, sock clad feet padding across her elm-wood floorboards to where her closet door stood tall against her left wall. </p><p>Hauling it open, Gloria reached for a little silver hanger residing on the far side of her closet, separated from the rest of her clothes. On it’s rack hung a plain magenta dress, with a green and white hat attached to the side. It was custom that you dressed up for The Selection, and considering Gloria lived right in the middle of mudbank central, this was about the nicest thing she owned. </p><p>Biting the inner corner of her cheek, she pulled the outfit off it’s hanger and slipped it on, tucking the hat under her arm, as her hair would need a serious brushing before she could wear it.</p><p>Grabbing her floral encased hairbrush from off the vanity in the corner, Gloria disappeared into her connecting bathroom, reappearing moments later with brushed hair and teeth, her hat fastened neatly on her head. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she exited her room, quietly closing the door behind her. </p><p>On the other side of her safe haven, Gloria found Jasper, her mother’s Yamper, waiting patiently for her near the top of the stairs. </p><p>The little hound yipped in delight when he spotted her, running circles around her feet. Her family always joked that Jasper liked her best, despite him not even being her Pokemon. </p><p>Gloria felt a little guilty, because she knew the Yamper was expecting some sort of happy attention this morning, but she was unsure if she even had it in her at the moment. Instead, she settled for a soft pat on his head before carefully descending down her rickety staircase, one hand strategically placed on the railing, as she’d accidentally left her glasses on the kitchen counter last night and could barely see two feet in front of her. </p><p>Her hands twisting nervously behind her back, she entered her home’s tiny, cluttered kitchen.</p><p>Her mother sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea clutched in her stiff hands, Gloria’s grandmother seated beside her, looking the most put together out of all of them. Placed just to the right of Magnolia, upon the cerulean tablecloth, was a bulky package wrapped in purple paper. </p><p>Magnolia’s comforting eyes landed on Gloria and she smiled warmly. </p><p>“Well, look at you. You look so grown up in that dress. In fact, I believe this is the first time I’ve ever seen you wear one.” Her grandmother added the last joke in as an attempt to lighten the unspoken dread that hung over all their heads. </p><p>Gloria shrugged, giving no verbal answer. </p><p>“Come sit, Combee,” her mother patted the spot across from her that the mystery gift currently occupied, “come see what your grandmother found for you.”</p><p>Gloria obeyed, retrieving her glasses and settling into the designated wooden chair, tugging lightly at the white ribbon that restricted the wrapping’s contents. </p><p>The rest of her family waited patiently for her to pull open the paper, revealing a lovely, gray, knit cardigan with black, loop buttons.</p><p>Gloria held it to her chest, grinning thankfully at Magnolia. “I love it.”</p><p>Magnolia placed a withered hand atop of Gloria’s. “It was your mother’s when she was a girl, and now I’m giving it to you.”</p><p>“Thank you, Gran.” She slipped the fabric over her arms, enjoying the warm, familiar feeling it brought to her body.</p><p>Her grandmother leaned over and kissed her granddaughter on the head. “You look beautiful in it.”</p><p>“Alright then,” Sonia cut in, a worried rasp still clinging to her voice, “if we’re all done here, I suppose we’d better get ourselves over to the Kraiser’s house before they eat without us. You know Hop’s stomach is a bottomless pit.”</p><p>Gloria felt a small sense of relief and reassurement when her mother reminded them of their plans to meet Hop and Leon before The Selection. Because Postwick and Wedgehurst were both such small towns, The Pokemon League just lumped them together as one area when it came time to pick players, so the Glaswoods and the Kraisers decided that it may be best for everyone’s sanity if they all attended together. </p><p>Gloria slid her chair back from the table, following her mother down the front hall to collect her boots. Her fingers trembled slightly as she attempted to lace them up, and eventually, Sonia knelt down to complete the job for her.</p><p>“It’s going to be alright.” She told her daughter once she’d finished, as though that may bring Gloria some peace of mind.</p><p>Gloria loved her mother to death, but spoiler alert, it didn’t. </p><p>However, she decided to just do her best not to think about what was set to unfold in the next two hours, though Gloria couldn’t stop herself from wondering, as she stumbled past the purple exterior of her childhood house, past her mother’s beloved flower garden, and into their tiny, red car, if this was the last time she’d ever see her home again?</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Calm Before the Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The drive to Hop’s house went mostly in tense silence; not even the radio had the heart to sing. </p><p>Gloria leaned her head against the car window, her gaze tracing over the rolling fields of Postwick, their perimeters lined with chipped, white picket fencing, like a familiar welcome parade. Herds of Miltank and Wooloo, accompanied by the occasional Butterfree, stared back at her, their large, friendly eyes oblivious to the metaphorical black cloud hanging over the heads of the Galarian people. </p><p>She allowed her thoughts to wander down memory lane as though her fate were already sealed and her life flashing before her eyes. How many times had she and Hop raced each other down this very same road by bike and on foot, counting the clouds as they went? How many times had she picked bundles of flowers from the runoff grass to bring home to her mother? How many times had Hop dragged her down to that little creek near the foggy forest to go looking for Chewtle, and would she ever have the chance to indulge in their adventures again?</p><p>It was too morbid of a topic for an eleven year old to think about, Gloria thought, the matter of her own mortality, but it didn’t stop the questions from crossing her mind. </p><p>
  <em> Come on, Gloria, snap out of it. Your name probably won’t even be called. </em>
</p><p>She’d done the math. </p><p>In both Postwick and Wedgehurst put together, there were approximately eighty-two eligible children, about half of which were female, which meant divide eighty-two by two and she had a one in forty-one chance of being selected. </p><p>This remembrance gave her a slight peace of mind, but she could still feel the dread coiling around her stomach like a Sandaconda.</p><p><em> You’re not going to think about it remember? </em>She scolded herself as her mother’s car pulled into Hop’s driveway.</p><p>Hop himself was waiting out on his front porch, looking sharp in the blue and white Sunday suit he’d always had, but never worn. Hop’s family were practicing Arceans like her own, but neither one were ever too attentive with attending the weekly worship services.</p><p>Gloria actually had to hold back a bit of a snort, because <em> never </em> before in her life had she seen <em> Hop, </em>the boy she grew up play-fighting in the summer dirt with, in pristine clothing that wasn’t torn at the ends, or with his hair perfectly tucked into place instead of sticking up in unruly clumps all over his head.</p><p>He looked <em> weird. </em></p><p>But, Gloria knew her friend could probably say the same about her, considering her twig-like figure had been shoved into the constraints of a dress, then swallowed up by a jacket just a few sizes too big. </p><p>When he spotted their approach, Hop stood from his spot on the little wooden porch-swing the two of them helped Leon install a few summers ago, breaking away from his older brother to reach his best friend. </p><p>He clutched Gloria in a hug with so much momentum that her glasses almost flew off the bridge of her nose, causing her to have to scrabble at her face in order to keep them intact. </p><p>She opened her mouth to scold him for his carelessness, but immediately closed it when she felt his body trembling against hers. </p><p>He was just as scared. </p><p>Gloria couldn’t hold that against him. Hop knew better than anyone what happened to people in The Ring. </p><p>His own brother, and her beloved surrogate uncle, Leon, had been a contestant years ago, before either she or Hop were born, being the only player of his group to make it out alive. He’d successfully defeated the Game’s “Final Massacre” with little to no injury—an impossible task if you really thought about it—which placed him in fame’s tight bonds, but no matter how much glory the win had given him, her Uncle Leon would never speak a word to anyone of what really took place in there. </p><p>Hop said he often heard Leon screaming at night as the images still haunted his mind. </p><p>Now Gloria watched him from over Hop’s shoulder. </p><p>Leon stood, tall and proud as the Sogaleo in which he’d been named for, but his face held no emotion, his eyes glassed over and dead as he pulled her mother into a similar embrace. </p><p>She could see their mouths moving in low, hushed speech, but Gloria failed to make out the words. </p><p>Suddenly she found the added body-heat of Hop’s weight very overwhelming and struggled a bit to escape his grip.</p><p>“Hop, let go, I’m sweltering out here.” She complained.</p><p>“Right, sorry.” He backed off, his saddle shoes scraping lightly on the cobblestone of his home’s front walkway. The taller boy threaded his dark fingers through his now-stiff violet hair in embarrassment, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels as though Gloria were some type of stranger rather than his childhood best friend of his entire eleven years of existence. </p><p>“So,” she started, “you look…”</p><p>“Strange?” Hop finished for her, a chuckle attached to his words. “Yeah, I know. I tried to skate past in my regular clothes, but Leon wouldn’t hear a word of it. I think he secretly enjoys having the excuse to dress me up. I don’t trust him though, fashion wise, at least.  I know he looks sharp today, but you’ve seen what he wears on a normal week, right?”</p><p>Gloria nodded solemnly, the liveliness returning to their back and forth dynamic. “You can never trust a man who wears tights under his shorts.”</p><p>“Roger that.”</p><p>“Gloria! Hop! You two better get in here before the food gets cold!” Sonia’s shrill call cut through their lighthearted teasing.</p><p>Hop bit back a bout of laughter, his arm linking it’s way through hers. “Come on, Raihan’s over too; he’s cooking.”</p><p>Raihan was probably the only one in the Kraiser household who could successfully use the kitchen without burning the house down, and he wasn’t even biologically related to Hop or Leon. </p><p>Now that she thought about it, her previous statement about the kitchen seemed to make that fact a little obvious. </p><p>Raihan <em> wasn’t </em> one of the Kraisers, not by blood at least, but he sure did act like one. Gloria figured that’s what happened when you spent more than half of your life with another person. You start to act like them a little bit. </p><p>Raihan was Leon’s boyfriend, another Games Winner, from Hammerlocke. They’d met during the game-making process of the year following Raihan’s win—two years after Leon’s—at just the age of thirteen, and shared experience brought their hearts together. Leon often said that besides Sonia, Raihan was the only person who truly understood him. But nowadays, despite his Hammerlocke origins, he spent most of his time out in Postwick, and he’d been a part of Gloria’s life just as long as Hop and Leon, dubbing him her second honorary uncle. </p><p>Arm in arm, the two children chased each other up the front steps, following the smell of fresh pancakes. </p><p>Just as Hop had promised, there was Raihan, leaning against the stove, happily chatting with the other adults. </p><p>That was the thing about Raihan, the Great Dragon Tamer of Hammerlocke, he was always optimistic and cheerful, even on the shittiest day of the year, he could find it in him to smile.</p><p>“Hey, you!” He said, spotting Gloria and Hop from the other side of the kitchen marble island.</p><p>“Hi, Uncle Rai.” Gloria allowed the taller man to scoop her up in a hug. </p><p>“You kids hungry?” He asked, eventually releasing Gloria from his tight embrace.</p><p>Hop nodded vigorously—he was always hungry—pulling Gloria with him over to the long, mahogany table where six plates had been neatly set out.</p><p>Remembering some of her manners, Gloria unfolded her napkin, placing it on her lap, and then completely disregarded the others as she leaned forward on her elbows, hovering over the table to talk to Hop, but was immediately reprimanded by her mother. </p><p>“Gloria! Get your elbows off the table!”</p><p>Hop snickered as she slowly slithered back down into her chair, and Gloria balled up her napkin, chucking it at his face. </p><p>Unfortunately, Sonia caught that too. </p><p>She shot her daughter a warning glare, handing her another one. </p><p>Hop stuck his tongue out at his friend. </p><p><em> “You’re dead.” </em> Gloria mouthed at him. </p><p>However, their banter was cut short by Leon placing a large stack of fresh Cheri Berry pancakes in front of them. </p><p>“Food is served!” Raihan announced, taking his seat along with the rest of the guests. </p><p>“Thank you,” The children chorused, wasting no time in subtly fighting over who got the Sitrus Berry sauce first. </p><p>Finally quieting down, Gloria began to observe the other occupants of the breakfast table, as was one of her usual morning rituals. Her mother was constantly saying how you could tell so much about a person or Pokémon just by their body language, and after taking part in so many explorations with both her mother and grandmother, she’d gotten quite good at reading it. </p><p>Her eyes focused first on Leon, who sat, almost motionless, and Gloria could guess what was on his mind. He might smile occasionally if someone directed a question or comment towards him, but his rigid posture told Gloria there was a storm inside his head. Her mother seemed to be in a similar condition, but she was doing her best to hide it, most likely for the sake of the children’s sanity. </p><p>Raihan, however, broke far away from any of his counterparts’ static states, talking loudly and gesturing with his hands at his words, though Gloria assumed, by the way his eyes shifted to Leon every few minutes or so, that he had a lot going on up there too. </p><p>Gloria supposed that she’d never really thought about the threat of the Games before as she wasn’t eligible for entry in the previous years, but now that her mind fixated on the subject once again, she could feel herself growing quiet as well, retreating back into the confines of her own thoughts and fears. </p><p>As low as a chance that there was to have her name drawn from the hat, it didn’t keep the anxiety from stopping in to say hello.</p><hr/><p>The rest of breakfast went by, mostly with Raihan doing all the talking, suggesting they all take a walk down to the creek when they come back from Wedgehurst to see the wildflowers in bloom, and it left Gloria wondering whether or not that would even be an option for her.</p><p>
  <em> I just have to keep convincing myself that it is. There’s no way it’ll be me. There’s absolutely no way. I’m going to come right back home and go down to the creek with Raihan and Hop. </em>
</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>
  <em> Right? </em>
</p><p>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ah yes, the beautiful thirty minutes of calm before the world inevitably goes to shit-</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Anticipation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"Let's run away and become pirates instead."</p><p>"Sounds like a solid plan."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After breakfast, the adults shooed the children out of the house for the last hour or so before they had to go, leaving Gloria and Hop to their own devices for a little while. </p><p>Now they walked side by side down the familiar, dry, country back-road that dropped off into their beloved creek. </p><p>Hop suggested they give it one last visit, just in case. Gloria did not at all like the way those words had come out, but the creek was their special place, a little habitat they’d discovered in their younger years, and going there always took a little bit of weight off her shoulders. </p><p>She had her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her cardigan while Hop did most of the talking, and occasionally she’d make a comment, as was their normal dynamic. Gloria never had much to say—she’d always been a relatively quiet person, better fitting the role of a listener instead—while Hop could go on for hours about the most miniscule things. </p><p>Right now, his latest fad was some fantasy book about a monarchy, who needed severe family therapy. He may or may not have stolen it from Raihan because he’d run out of reading material.</p><p>“So, you find out that the heroes weren’t actually people, but they were at the same time.”</p><p>Gloria narrowed her eyes in confusion. “That makes no sense. How can they be humans, but not?”</p><p>“No, no, you don’t get it.” Hop argued, “They <em> were </em> humans, and then their evil brother turned them into giant hounds.”</p><p>Gloria snorted, “The brother sounds pretty stupid. Why <em> hounds, </em> out of everything you could turn your enemy into? They can still fight you, you know. Why not a tree? Or a rock?”</p><p>“Or a hairbrush”</p><p>“Or a pizza. Is cannibalism acceptable in this universe?”</p><p>“But if he’s a dragon, and the heroes become pizzas, is it really cannibalism?”</p><p>“I guess the world may never know.” Gloria concluded.</p><p>“I’m not sure I <em> want </em> to.” Hop joked as he stepped up onto an uneven rock that overlooked their destination, his arms out on either side of him to hold his balance. Gloria sat down next to him, kicking off her shoes and allowing her feet to dip into the crystal-clear water. </p><p>She leaned back on her hands, allowing them to run through the stems of the various wildflowers native to the riverbank. </p><p>Above her, Gloria could hear the chirping of Rookidee and Corvisquire echoing through the trees that guarded their little haven. </p><p>She fell quiet again.</p><p>“Imagine <em> you </em> were turned into a pizza”, Hop was still going on about their earlier conversation. “Imagine what that would feel like, if you’d feel anything at all. At least you'd smell good though.” He paused at Gloria’s newfound silence, and slipped off his rock, choosing to sit beside her instead. </p><p>“What’cha thinkin’ about now?”</p><p>Gloria shrugged. “It’s pretty here.”</p><p>That was code for, <em> I’m not okay, and you know exactly what it is I’m thinking about. </em></p><p>Her anxiety was really getting the best of her today. </p><p>Hop nodded slowly, his high pitched chatter fading away. “I get that. I’m scared too.”</p><p>Gloria swallowed hard, turning her head downwards and picking at the skin around her fingers. She didn’t want to think about the questions swirling on loop in her brain, but the thoughts were just so loud, she couldn’t help blurting them out. </p><p>“Do you think it’ll be us?”</p><p>Hop shrugged, and Gloria didn’t know why she expected him to have all the answers. Maybe because he was her best friend, who always knew exactly what to say when she grew pessimistic like this. But Hop was not an encyclopedia to the universe, so he had no words to provide her now.</p><p>“Sometimes I wish we could just run away.” He finally admitted. </p><p>“Where?” </p><p>Hop allowed himself to lean back to her level. “I dunno. A different region maybe? One that’s not as fucked up as ours.”</p><p>“No one gets out of Galar, Hop.” Gloria’s voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. “You know that.”</p><p>“Maybe we just live here. Deep in the forest where they’ll never find us. We can build a treehouse and everything, like Swiss Family Robinson.” He referenced the children’s story collection he loved so much.</p><p>“Build a treehouse? With what tools? Can you even <em> use </em> a saw?”</p><p>Hop sent her a playful glare. “Hey, don’t bash my lack of woodworking knowledge, it's not like  <em> you </em> can use one either.”</p><p>“Then why are we building a hypothetical treehouse?” Gloria poked.</p><p>Her friend rolled his eyes. “Fine, we won’t build a treehouse. We’ll go find a cave somewhere and live out of that.”</p><p>“Sounds comfortable.” Gloria snarked. </p><p>Hop shoved her with his shoulder. “It’s better than nothing. We can follow the river and see where it takes us. You never know.”</p><p>“All rivers eventually lead to oceans.” Gloria remembered her mother saying that once.</p><p>“Great, we can use our lack of carpentry skills to build a ship and become the world’s most fearsome pirates.”</p><p>“Sounds like a solid plan.”</p><p>“Glad you’re on <em> board </em>.”</p><p>Gloria opened her mouth to insult his dad-joke when it sounded, just as always, a long, low, somber wail, like a creature’s pitiful last call for help. </p><p>The signal that beckoned them to The Selection.</p><p>Her worried eyes wandered to Hop, who, similar to her, halted abruptly, frozen on the grass, his fingers clenched like steel around it’s waving blades, lower lip pulled between his teeth. </p><p>She knew what he felt. </p><p>White-hot fear, too present on her skin to be considered chilling, creeping up her back, slipping through her nose and ears, down her throat, winding itself around her lungs and heart. </p><p>The idea of running away to the nearest ocean and never looking back sounded very enticing right about now. </p><p>Her blank stare turned towards the winding trail that would lead them home, the ability to take a single step forward having completely left her body. But they’d prolonged the moment for as long as they could. There was no running now, and hiding would only end badly. </p><p>“We…” Hop didn’t finish his sentence, but Gloria already knew the context.</p><p>
  <em> We should go now, as much as I don’t want to. </em>
</p><p>Holding out her hand to her best friend, Gloria and Hop clutched onto each other like life support, and Gloria wondered if, in a mere matter of hours, they would have to be. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When they returned home, Raihan’s heavy blue gaze awaited them at the front door, his optimism gone now that even <em> he </em> could not protect them from what awaited at Wedgehurst’s Station Square. </p><p>He looked as though he wanted to release a thousand words, but instead, the only thing out of his mouth was, “You’d better go find your mother.”</p><p>Gloria nodded, her hands shaking the slightest bit. </p><p>She wandered down the front hallway, fingertips trailing along the photo covered walls. She paused a moment to run her eyes over the display for what she hoped would not be the last time. </p><p>Most of them were of Hop and Leon, and the occasional photo of their mother before she’d passed, but there were some portraits littered near the top of herself and Hop. Gloria’s expression softened a tad as she focused on their young, smiling faces, unmoving and unaware. She remembered even, where some of these photos had been taken. There was one in Wyndon on a school trip. The two of them stood, smushed together under the watchful eye of a Corviknight statue. Another in Circhester on a Holiday trip, their young bodies trapped in the motion of pelting each other with snowballs. Raihan had taken those, she supposed. He always did have an eye for photography. </p><p>She quickly turned away, not wanting to linger in nostalgia any longer, and forced her way to the kitchen.</p><p>At the now-cleared table, in the soft light of the Postwick sun, Sonia and Leon sat side-by-side. Leon’s face was buried behind his hands and her mother whispered something softly to him in a friendly voice. </p><p>It didn’t take a genius to know what they were talking about. </p><p>“Mom?”</p><p>Both adults turned at the sound of Gloria’s entrance, and Sonia’s face instantly morphed into her “It’s all going to turn out fine” smile—something Hop had dubbed the expression a few years back when he fell from his bike and broke his arm. </p><p>“Hey, Scatterbug.” She stood, reaching out an arm to pull her daughter into her side. Gloria heard the evident quiver to her voice. “Sounds like we’d better get going, huh?”</p><p>“Do we have to?” Gloria hated how small she sounded, but she couldn’t help the fear. Even since childhood, she’d run from everything. She was never the bravest person out there. So far, she’d been doing her best to contain her anxiety, but at the sound of the summoning alarm, it was all coming out. </p><p>“I wish we didn’t.” Sonia responded. </p><p>Gloria buried herself further into her mother’s side, picking at a loose hem on her sweater, her eyes glued to the hardwood floor. “Hop said we should run away and become pirates.”</p><p>“That’s a nice thought.” Leon finally spoke more than two words. “Maybe we’ll go to the lake when we all come back and see what we can do.”</p><p>Gloria wanted with her whole being to believe him, so she simply just nodded along with her uncle’s words. </p><p>Moments later, Raihan appeared in the doorway, a hand on Hop’s shoulder. </p><p>“We need to leave now before they start doing rounds.”</p><p>Sonia nodded, running a reassuring hand through Gloria’s hair. </p><p>Tense silence fell over the room, tight enough to snap a cord. For a second, no one moved, and then Gloria tentatively put one foot in front of the other, starting towards a fate with no definitive answers, and potentially no way out.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's all downhill from here, boios. Next we finally get to go into the selection process and you get to see how low-key messed up this AU region really is-</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Selection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"Pikachu, I choose you!"</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Left.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Right. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Heel.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Toe. </em>
</p><p>One more foot in front of the other.</p><p>Gloria chanted this over and over in her mind as the group approached Wedgehurst Station Square. </p><p>The space was normally devoid of people—seeing as rarely anyone ever took trips out to the country—but today, you almost couldn’t walk two feet without crashing into someone else. </p><p>Her moss-deep eyes scanned the cramped area, senses now on high alert as a large, tanky, military truck rolled by, it’s rumbling wheels causing the ground beneath her to quiver. Gloria caught a glimpse of the League staff inside, dressed in white and red jackets, dark glasses, and silver clubs that hung at their sides. </p><p>A shiver ran down her spine.</p><p>“It’s okay, Love.” Sonia must have caught on to her daughter’s nervous body language, “They’re only here to keep the peace.”</p><p>Gloria’s stare never left the occupants of the truck as it stopped just before a large metal table that resided near the entrance to the square. Two league officials unloaded, snarling pairs of Arcanine and Boltund beside them. </p><p>They didn’t look too peaceful to her.</p><p>Gloria finally snatched her gaze away, her shoes echoing like thunder in her ears over the hard concrete flooring of Wedgehurst Square. She counted each block that led to the looming, gothic, clocktower-station in her mind, a game she played to keep calm. </p><p>
  <em>One.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Two. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Three. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Four. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Five-</em>
</p><p>However, that game went interrupted when the group was intercepted by a woman in a League Staff Uniform, a Liepard standing quietly behind her. </p><p>“Excuse me, ma’am.” She addressed Sonia, placing her hand on Gloria’s arm. Gloria instinctively tried to pull away, but the woman’s grip tightened like nails. “I’ll take them from here.”</p><p>Gloria tried to protest, but instead found herself being yanked away from her mother. Sonia simply stood, powerless, her fist pressed to her mouth, as the adults were steered in the opposite direction. </p><p>“Hurry it up, kid.” The new chaperone growled, shoving Gloria so hard in front of her, the girl almost fell. “We don’t have all day.” The Liepard snapped at Gloria's heels in agreement. </p><p>Eyes shifting with uncertainty, Gloria complied with the League official’s demands, allowing herself to be corralled towards the long table. Around her, she could see neighboring families in the same state, parents crying out while their children were ripped from their arms, others—mostly the older ones—trying to calm their loved ones, letting them know it’ll be alright. They’ve made it out so far, what’s one more year?</p><p>From her peripheral vision, rough hands found themselves on her right shoulder, tugging her into line behind a few other girls. “Wait here. They’ll check you in.”</p><p>Following her release, Gloria’s own hand tracked up her arm, smoothing out the now-white skin where fingerprints would surely linger.</p><p>Her bitten-down nails dug hard into her flesh, almost drawing blood, when a thunderous Aracanine’s roar, followed by a blood-curdling scream, and a body dropping to the ground, rang around the square. </p><p>Gloria didn’t have to look to know what happened, and nor did she want to. She knew what she’d find. </p><p>A runner.</p><p>They had one every year. At least, that’s what everyone said. One or two unlucky souls would spook and try to flee. </p><p>She had to close her eyes at the sound of a limp form dragging against the dirt as the voice cried for help. </p><p>Yet no one moved. </p><p>What could they do? Try to stop the League, and you meet the same fate. </p><p>This was the harsh reality of Galar. Their freedom came at a cost. That cost being, they weren’t really free at all. Any kind of opposition to the Pokemon League ultimately resulted in death. There were no pardons, and Acacius Rose had no mercy for the people he was supposed to look after, not encase like Beautifly.</p><p>The screaming eventually died down into labored gasping, growing ever more shallow, as the square remained frozen. </p><p>Gloria couldn’t imagine how it must have felt, to die with everyone present, but no one to comfort you.</p><p>Finally, it stopped, and a Staff’s voice cleared the air. “Alright, as you were folks, nothing to see here.”</p><p>But there was everything to see. </p><p>The ones who were meant to keep the peace brought nothing but chaos and terror. Could a bigger revelation exist?</p><p>Two more officials sidled up on either side of Gloria’s line, she assumed to keep another from escaping. </p><p>“Keep moving.” They growled. </p><p>Still struck with shock, Gloria didn’t argue, shuffling forward along with her companions. Her hands twisted uncomfortably in the gray fabric of her sweater as the line grew shorter and shorter, thinning out until it was only her standing before the slab of silver metal where various League Staff poured over paper lists of all eligible town residentents. </p><p>A young, gruff man with ash-blond hair that fell into his face, glared up at her from his seat, the harsh sunlight highlighting a warning of malice in his amber eyes.</p><p>“Name?” He growled. </p><p>“Gloria.”</p><p>An exasperated sigh left his lungs. “Full name, kid, full name.”</p><p>Gloria ducked her head, slightly embarrassed. “Gloria Glaswood.”</p><p>“Age eleven?”</p><p>She nodded. </p><p>The man jerked his head to the left. “You’re on the list, go stand in front with the others.”</p><p>Gloria wasted no time escaping his unrelenting stare, kicking her feet into gear. </p><p>She followed the path left between the boys and the girls, parted like Kyoger had the blue sea. </p><p>She tried to search out Hop as she wandered down the cobblestone, but alas, her expedition ended in failure. Instead, Gloria found herself slipping into line next to a tall blond that she recognized from school. They’d never spoken, and Gloria had no recollection of her name, only knowing her as the quiet artist who sat in the back of the room, never speaking unless spoken to. </p><p>Today, however, they made eye contact for the first time, and there was a sort of shared reassurance in their exchange. </p><p>
  <em>I know how you’re feeling. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Let me share your pain.</em>
</p><p>Gloria mustered a smile, and the girl smiled back, a sliver of comfort in these trying times. Then Gloria turned her head away, once more attempting to fish out Hop in the crowd. Her gaze swam about the ocean of trembling bodies until they finally landed on a familiar tuft of indigo-violet hair.</p><p>A small sense of relief washed over her for only a moment before the loud boom of a microphone invaded her ears. Gloria inwardly cringed at the wail it sent rippling through the crowd. That was Wedgehurst technology for you. It was a farming town, so most individuals here could hardly work a computer. </p><p>“Welcome, ladies and gentleman,” A disinterested voice slithered through the sound systems. Wedgehurst-Postwick’s designated announcer—or, executioner, as Leon liked to call her—Oleana, addressed the masses. She towered over the rest of her accompaniment, long, white coat almost brushing the ground as it concealed a tight, red dress. Her sand-shaded hair waved like war flags in the morning breeze, making her presence even more intimidating than before. Her jaded, fearow-eyed vision swept the square, as if counting heads, “to the Selection of the 84th annual Galar Games. It is my true honor,” Gloria caught Hop snorting at the blatant lie, “to present to you today, your male and female players.”</p><p>Not a sound rose from her audience. Clearly, <em>they</em> weren’t feeling the honor.</p><p>“Shall we begin?”</p><p>No response.</p><p>“Very well.” Oleana sounded as though this were the exact reaction she’d expected, and Gloria supposed it was. What did she want them to do? Jump up and cheer? “We’ll begin with the girls.”</p><p>Gloria found her fingers crossing over themselves during the anticipation. </p><p>Oleana’s long, slender fingers circled the name pool for a moment, dragging the moment out, before reaching into the glass bowl and retrieving the slip.</p><p>Her perfectly shaped, dark nails curled around the edge of the paper’s gold trim, antagonizing the crowd as she unraveled it. </p><p>Oleana inched a step closer to the microphone, clearing her throat, and Gloria wanted to scream at the top of her lungs,<em> “Get on with it!”</em></p><p>And so Gloria’s impatience was answered.</p><p>“The female player from the Wedgehurst-Postwick Area is…”</p><p>The silence slowly killed her. </p><p>“Marsha Edwards.”</p><p>A loud choke pierced Gloria’s hearing, and it took her a moment to process that the noise had come from the spot directly on her right. The blonde. So, Marsha had been her name. </p><p>The two stared at each other in terror for a single second, before Gloria inched back, allowing Marsha to pass. </p><p>She wanted to cover her ears to block out the horrified gasps that Gloria assumed were released by Marsha’s family.</p><p>Her eyes never left the back of the tall blonde’s light-blue dress as Marsha climbed her way up the stairs, her whole body shaking. Then she faced towards the people, her expression unreadable.</p><p>Looking for Hop again, Gloria caught the flicker of relief in his eyes. </p><p>
  <em>One down, one more to go.</em>
</p><p>However, she couldn’t share his same feeling. There was no relief when it came to The Selection, apparently she’d just learned that the hard way. Someone always had to die. </p><p>Normally, Gloria would remain optimistic, but no one from the Wedgehurst-Postwick area had gone in the ring and come out alive in a very long time. Not since Leon; he’d been the last.</p><p>Oleana, on the other hand, didn’t so much as even glance at Marsha, instead, sauntering over to the second pool where the male player would be named. </p><p>“And for the male player. The Selected is…”</p><p>Gloria held her breath.</p><p>“Hop Kraiser.”</p><p>Gloria had no more breath.</p><p>It was as though all the wind had been knocked out of her.</p><p>She felt absolutely nothing at all.</p><p>For a moment, the square fell completely silent, everyone present knowing exactly who Hop was. And then, as Hop began to walk forward, his movements slow and stiff, Leon said how they were all feeling.</p><p>Gloria didn’t think she’d ever heard a sound as petrifying as the lowly, grievous caterwaul that left her uncle’s body. </p><p>It ripped through the square, the loud <em>“No!”</em>, sounding like a mother who’d just lost her child to death’s bloody claws, which Gloria figured Leon just had. He’d become a sort of father figure towards Hop after their mother died. </p><p><em>“No!”,</em> it came again. </p><p>The former Champion surged forward, barging past the two Staff members who tried to calm him, sprinting towards Hop, only to be caught by Raihan’s strong grip. </p><p>Leon’s younger brother turned, startled, taking in the picture. </p><p>“Leon, stop. Come on!” Raihan growled, attempting to restrain the raging man, but it was no use. Leon clearly couldn’t hear him. He just kept struggling against Raihan, screaming inaudible profanities, twisting every which way, desperate to reach his brother. </p><p>It was as though Gloria were watching the scene unfold in slow motion. Leon seemed almost savage, like losing Hop was losing a lifeline, a piece of his soul. </p><p>He even managed to bring Raihan to his knees in his grappling until the taller man was able to draw him in, restraining the broken man completely. </p><p>Leon’s nails dragged against the rocky tiles, drawing blood from the pads on his fingertips as his shoulders shook with silent sobs. </p><p>Tears pooled in Gloria’s eyes at the sight, her heart wrenching, suffocating her with blurry numbness. </p><p>
  <em>Hop…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Someone has to help him. Someone. Anyone. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He can’t go alone.</em>
</p><p>Before, every muscle in her body screamed to stay put, praying to whatever God was out there that she could walk away from this unscathed. But with Hop gone, Gloria knew there was no chance of that ever happening. </p><p>She hardly registered her own movements in her mind, the sound of footsteps against a paved path of fate, too far away for her ears to hear. </p><p>She thought she might have heard her mother calling out as well, yelling for her to stop.</p><p>
  <em>Stop?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Stop what?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What am I doing?</em>
</p><p>Her body moved, separated from her mind, like some instinctive switch had been flipped, activating a preprogrammed response algorithm in her veins. </p><p>Gloria only calculated the result of her actions when the dreaded, silver stairs were directly in front of her, and the words had left her mouth.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I volunteer.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. On the Train</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oop, here we go folks. All aboard the ANGST TRAIN. CHOO CHOO</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“I volunteer.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Consciousness came crashing back down, like shattered glass, breaking over Gloria’s head at what she’d just done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” Oleana almost choked on her words in shock. No one </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> volunteered for the Galar Games. Who in their right mind would willingly walk right into the jaws of death?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there was no turning back now. Gloria had just made her bed, might as well sleep in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I volunteer.” She repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of her eye, Gloria could see the horror-stricken look on Hop’s face, his mouth twisted into a grim frown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you absolutely certain?” It seemed that Oleana was giving her the chance to turn tail and flee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that was the thing about Gloria Glaswood. She may not be the most fearless person out there, yet when it came to those she cared deeply for, if they went down, they went down together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I volunteer.” The third round came out more solidified and certain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you’d better get up here.” The shock had drained from Oleana’s tone, replaced again by monotonous disinterest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Placing a steady hand on the railing, Gloria kept her gaze straight ahead, refusing to look at anything else that might drag her back from this post.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She passed Marsha, their eyes meeting for only a moment, yet this time, the unspoken messages differed from before. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you. I’m sorry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re safe now; go home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Marsha offered Gloria one last nod, a gesture of respect, before fleeing down the platform steps as though a phantom force nipped at her heels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria’s deep-green line of sight fixated on Marsha’s flying blonde hair, never resting back against her shoulders until she’d met the safety of her mother’s arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two women embraced, falling to the ground in a mess of relieved sobs and proclamations of a mother’s love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Gloria didn’t have it in her to search out her own mother. What betrayal Sonia must feel now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And your name is?” Oleana cut through her thought process. It took Gloria a moment of mental vacancy to stumble on the realization that the announcer was speaking to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gloria Glaswood.” Gloria’s tone came out breathless almost, like the words weren’t even hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Ms. Glaswood. You’ve done an admirable thing, haven’t you?” The compliment sounded disingenuous, something to win over the crowds, though Gloria’s brain was a little too far in murky waters to answer, let alone care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oleana took her silence as a cue to wrap things up. However, Gloria could no longer understand the tall woman’s words. Her eyes were locked with Hop’s, silent language transmitting between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What have you done?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why would you do that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t let you die. You’re all I have.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was the truth. Gloria loved her mother dearly, her grandmother too, but it was Hop who’d walked every milestone with her. He’d been there for her first day of school, Her first below A grade on an exam—he’d gotten Leon to take them for ice cream that day. Hop was the one who skipped an entire week of scouts meetings when her family’s first Bolthund, Bessie, passed because he knew how much she’d loved that damn hound, and when she fell from a tree and broke her wrist, he’d come over to her house with a backpack of comic books and Teddiursa grams. They’d stayed up late watching cartoons and Gloria forgot all about her shattered bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could she leave him there to fall into the dark? The boy who suggested they build treehouses and pirate ships? The boy she’d come to call her brother?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, she couldn’t do it; she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop was her family, and family meant that no one was left behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, you two, ” Oleana’s quippy speech brought an end to the nostalgia, “I’m not getting paid to stand around all day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, you’re getting paid for something much worse. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gloria thought, though she had the manners to refrain from saying it out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, she didn’t protest. Instead, Gloria allowed herself to be led down the platform, her eyes trained on the now bloodstained cobblestone from today’s earlier runner. She wondered if it would be her blood that stained the arena floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>A hopeless question.</em> She scolded herself. <em>You chose your fate. And you don’t regret it. </em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria thought she’d regret it even more if she lost Hop to Acacius Rose’s sickening games, knowing full well she could have prevented it. Whoever made it to the end of the game could go home, it didn't matter how many—though very few times had the number ever surpassed one or two—and she would make sure that they made out together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her thoughts only solidified when she felt Hop grab onto her. They were each other’s life line now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, a gesture which he then returned. Their unspoken signal that they’d be alright. As long as they had each other. At least, she hoped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The space around Gloria gradually darkened, and it registered that Oleana had taken them inside the station. A shiver ran up her arms as the cold air conditioning blasted over her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This way.” Their guide beckoned them down an empty platform corridor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria’s vision traced over the dented, crumbling walls of the ancient, run-down building, wondering how the weakened structure was even still standing. She wrinkled her nose at the musty scent of copper and rust, trying to figure out how many decades it’d been since this place had been cleaned. Neon signs above station platforms flickered on and off, some of the letters failing to glow all together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Welcome to Wedgehurst, everybody; it’s quite advanced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Gloria knew why her countryside home was so neglected. The Rose cooperation only looked after its own kind: The wealthy and powerful, a.k.a, Wyndon. It was the cleanest, most technologically advanced city in Galar, and Chairman Rose made sure that the bulk of their energy and resources went straight to his favored place of residence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally arrived on sight of their platform, Gloria found her mother and Leon, along with Raihan and her grandmother waiting for them by the train. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria broke away from Hop and Oleana, running straight for her mother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” She whispered when their bodies collided. “I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Sonia shook her head, hugging her daughter close. “No. What you did was very brave. If it were Leon, I’d have done the same.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Mom. I promise I’ll come home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria glanced over at Hop, who seemed to be in a similar conversation with his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, you two. Listen.” Gloria and Sonia joined Leon, Raihan, and her grandmother as one group. Her uncle’s voice was grim. “You’ll have to keep your wits about you in there, but you won’t make it two steps without help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching into his pocket, Leon pulled out a Pokeball and placed it into Hop’s hand. “You’re allowed a single Pokemon to bring with you. I want you to take Blaise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria’s eyes widened. That was Leon’s prize Charizard. He’d caught him during his own games in something they called, “The Final Massacre”. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He knows the games.” Was her uncle’s only explanation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sonia copied Leon’s gesture, pressing a red and white capsule into Gloria’s grip. “I’m giving you Signus to take with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Signus was one of her mother’s Pokemon. A colossal Arcanine who often assisted her on expeditions to unexplored areas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take good care of him.” Gloria promised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he’ll take good care of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little family came together for one last group embrace before Oleana announced that it was time to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria pulled away from Sonia one last time and offered her mother a reassuring smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother’s only reply was a sad wave as Gloria stepped up onto the train, and didn’t look back.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gloria had never been on a train before—her family had been lucky enough to own a car—allowing them to drive to anyplace they needed to go. But deep down, she’d always wanted to ride the railway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entering the closed space, Gloria judged by the fancy, cherrywood table, it’s surface covered with steaming platters of hot sandwiches and aromatic sweets, that this must be a dining car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She allowed herself to take a few steps forward and look around, her gaze traveling up the silver-papered walls that peeled slightly around the edges, following the swirling patterns creeping up towards an antique chandelier. </span>
  <span>Blue-cushioned, booth-like benches lined the perimeter of the car, white pillows scattered among them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They must have cleaned it up a little for the players. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oleana took a seat in the far left corner, a clear sign that she’d rather not be bothered any further, leaving Hop and Gloria to their own devices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hungry?” Hop asked, his tone a bit awkward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria shrugged, “Not really. It’s probably poisoned anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her answer brought a crooked smile to his face, and he grabbed one of the little sandwiches, handing half to her. “No harm in finding out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria graciously, yet still cautiously—for the dramatics—accepted the food, leading him over to one of the benches by the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned her head against the glass panel, bringing her half of the sandwich to her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria had to admit, the food wasn’t bad. It was some sort of broiled meat, piled on top of lettuce, tomato, onion, and Moo Moo Milk cheese, sandwiched together between slices of fluffy, rye bread. It was no home cooked meal, but she didn’t mind the taste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched the familiar pastures of Wedgehurst roll past the train car, as they eventually filtered out into vast open patches of blue sky and white clouds. The open railroad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” Hop called out to Oleana, who didn’t even so much as look up from the tablet she’d been working on when she answered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Motostoke. That’s where the opening ceremony will be. Then they’ll transfer you to Wyndon for training. Now leave me alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop brought his focus back to Gloria, rolling his eyes at the ornery woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then his expression darkened, and a sort of seriousness overtook his posture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gloria.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew where this was going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria looked down at her lap as she formulated her answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. It was like, something in me snapped. Some pre-programmed response. All I could think about was how much I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you in there. If we go down, we go down together. Isn’t that what you always said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Hop scoffed, “If one of us fell into a lake or something. But not this. Never this. Look, I'm not trying to sound ungrateful, because I am.  Grateful, I mean. It calms me a little to know that I’m not alone. But what about <em>me</em>? What if it turns into <em>me</em> losing <em>you?”</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you can haunt me through all nine layers of Hell when you get there.” She responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious, Gloria.” Hop didn’t sound amused at her joke. So she dropped her humor and gave him a straight answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t. We keep each other alive. Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Right.” Hop didn’t sound so convinced, but at the same time, she figured, he didn’t want to think about a scenario she was wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned back on the booth, falling onto his back, while Gloria curled her legs up to her chest, wondering what the Hell she’d just gotten herself into.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. On the Highway to Hell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Gloria’s face remained pressed against the glass of the moving car, her sight never leaving the passing landscapes that rolled before her. Her mother had never really taken her any farther than Postwick’s friendly gates, and Gloria supposed now that she’d acquired a one-way ticket to Death Valley, who knew when she’d ever witness this kind of grandeur again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything moved from her gaze far too quick if you asked her, but Gloria found her eyes going wide at the expansive fields of Turffield—herds of wild Pokemon roaming free—that soon blended into the harbors of Hulbury. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop was by her side, pointing out every little detail of unfamiliarity to him, playing a guessing game with Gloria on what it may be. Everynow and then, Oleana would glance up from her work and roll her own eyes. Because the older woman resided in Galar’s golden city, Wyndon, Gloria figured that Oleana had been introduced to milieu of higher exquisiteness than what she and Hop, two countryside natives, were marvelling over now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly,” their escort finally spoke up, “haven’t you two ever walked outside before?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Hop responded, never tearing his gaze away from the glittering walls of the Galar mines that they now passed through. His fingers followed each piece of ore and crystal that he saw, fascination evident in the breathy tone he’d used, “but never anything like this. Postwick is the same for miles: fields and fences, maybe the occasional berry grove. It’s nothing to gawk at.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That, I can certainly attest to.” Oleana responded. “Just don’t drop dead when we reach Motostoke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Motostoke.” Hop murmured the word under his breath like he’d never heard it before in his life, though Gloria knew he had because Leon went there for work </span>
  <em>
    <span>all the time</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The plum-haired boy swiveled his body towards Oleana this time. “What’s it like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s Motostoke like?” Oleana raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow.” The Wyndon resident acted as though her two players had just been born yesterday. “You two don’t get out much, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we are only eleven.” Hop houghitly reminded her, “What did you expect?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, Oleana actually seemed to crack a smile. “I suppose that </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> asking too much of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria didn’t miss the way Hop pouted at the word “child”. He liked to think he was more grown up than he actually was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But,” the woman continued, “Motostoke is the second largest city in Galar, right behind Wyndon, of course. It’s pretty technologically advanced, in an old fashioned type of way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria found herself being drawn further and further into Oleana’s foreign descriptions. “What do you mean?” She finally contributed to the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oleana shrugged. “In Wyndon, everything is powered by natural energy collected down in the mines and distributed to the people automatically. But in Motostoke, they still insist on running off of man-powered technology: gears, wells, steam power, things like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria nodded in understanding. “In Wedgeherst and Postwick, everything runs on Windmills. But it’s not the most efficient in the winter time. The town’s been petitioning to switch over for years, except oil and gas are expensive and bad for the environment. That’s what Gran says, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what’s Motostoke’s deal?” Hop pressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iif Gloria knew better, she might even think that Oleana was enjoying this informational session...maybe she wasn't as bad as Gloria initially thought, “Sometimes,” Oleana began, “like in Wedgehurst’s case, energy sources are pollusive or financially not feasible, but in other cases, like Motostoke, they’ve always run their city this way, and to take a different route, to them, is like abandoning a piece of their culture. Galar as a whole has its own culture, but within its cities and towns, each area has its own </span>
  <em>
    <span>subculture</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and in Motostoke, they’re dedicated to mechanical functions. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> that is, I couldn’t tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, what’s Wyndon like?” Gloria finally mustered up the courage to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wyndon is…” Oleana couldn’t seem to find the words to explain the so-called “Shining City”, “well, you’ll just have to wait and see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you always lived there?” Gloria almost slapped Hop for asking such a personal question, but surprisingly, Oleana didn’t seem to mind his curiosity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” She answered. “No, I haven’t. I’m originally from Spikemuth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spikemuth. Gloria had never been to the dark alleyways of what her Uncle Leon always called, the Hell Hole of Galar, but from what she knew of, it was not a friendly place. She’d only seen it in photos before: nothing but what could only be described as a dump, complete with collapsing buildings and littered walkways. Back at school, in Galarian geography, they’d learned that Spikemuth was full of active crime and gang activity. Gloria could only guess what those living conditions might do to a person. Perhaps that’s why Oleana was the way she was. Detached, disinterested, emotionless, almost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But despite quality of living, it was rare that anyone from the outside was offered a place in Galar’s Golden Ranks, so Gloria couldn’t help the question that followed. “How’d you end up in Wyndon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A blank look crossed Oleana’s features. “Completely by chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop turned back towards the window, speaking to no one in particular. “I want to get out of Postwick one day. I want to go </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span> and see </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Gloria swore she saw a twinge of guilt and regret in Oleana’s green gaze. “And so you will.” she responded, though her voice did not sound like she was completely there. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Attention, passengers, attention. We are now approaching Motostoke Station. Please gather all belongings and mind the gap as you exit the train.” </span>
  </em>
  <span> The automated arrival response sounded through the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oleana closed down her tablet, and stood, brushing off her long, white coat. “You two’d better come with me, we’ll exit from the last car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria nodded along, her hand reaching down into the pocket of her gray cardigan to make sure Signus’ Pokeball was still there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fingers graced the cool, spherical surface, the reminder that a protector was with her, calming her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keeping close to Hop’s side, Gloria once again found herself following Oleana down the corridors of empty cars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could hear noises of clanking and rumbling sounding from the outside, and wondered if this was the mechanical power Oleana had mentioned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally exited the serpentine mode of transportation, a wave of overwhelmingness submerged Gloria like a monsoon. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>She’d never seen so many people gathered in a space at once. They stood, bunched together on either side of the platform, whooping and cheering, most of them dressed with polished extravagance, yet there were some who wore plain everyday clothes, smudges of oil or dust here and there. Gloria guessed the bulk of these folk must be from Wyndon, travelled here for the big opening ceremony, and the others, the Motostoke mechanic workers Oleana spoke of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around them, she spotted several other trains pulling in, each unloading their own two players and representative. It would seem that Gloria and Hop were some of the youngest present. There were others who seemed like they could have maybe been twelve or thirteen, but the majority of the players chosen were older. Fourteen to eighteen she supposed. She severely hoped that wouldn’t put her and Hop at some sort of disadvantage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This way.” Oleana hissed, forcefully creating a path through the sea of applause.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria quickly followed without question dragging Hop a little behind her. The booming contact was a little too much for her to bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the just outside the station, a long, sleek, black car patiently awaited their arrival. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oleana opened the door, and all three climbed inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two okay?” She asked as they strapped themselves in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria nodded while simultaneously trying to place a finger on Oleana’s person. She’d seemed so dismissive during The Selection process that Gloria almost thought the woman had no care whether they lived or died, but now, while Oleana showed no signs of attachment to or relative interest in the children, she wasn’t entirely indifferent to their wellbeing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Gloria figured she should stop her psychoanalyzing. Her mother said that it could be intrusive in some cases, to try and read a person’s chapters without asking the author first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So instead, she turned her attention to the sights of Motostoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all red-brick buildings and winding pipes, cranes and pulleys, steel mills and steam towers, a kind of industrialization that Gloria had never seen before. Hefty Mudsdale and Tauros pulled work wagons up and down the street, piled high with coal, ore, and other sources of energy. The car rumbled and shook as it lumbered over the uneven road, pounded down in time by tracking hooves and heavy vehicles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They took a slight left turn, and a huge gear-powered elevator appeared in front of them. One of the large gears was pressed into a smaller one that turned together in order to lift civilians up to the city’s higher level where a large stadium resided. Gloria assumed that this is where the Galar Games’ opening ceremony was taking place. She knew without a doubt that as previous victors, Raihan and Leon were required to be present, but Gloria wondered if her mother would be watching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The car stopped just in front and Gloria looked at Oleana, quizzicality in her gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re taking the lift up.” She explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That thing?” Hop’s eyes grew wide as peppermint candies. “It’s amazing! My mind can’t even comprehend how that thing works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mind can’t comprehend lots of things.” Gloria teased, poking his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! That’s not fair!” Hop batted her hand away. “My mind can comprehend plenty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> mind does not have the energy to comprehend corralling two children, so if we could please get a move on?” Oleana broke up the fight. “We do have a schedule to keep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there it was again. The urgency to just get things over with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Gloria didn’t argue. “Yes, Ma’am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oleana offered a curt nod in return, herding them towards the elevator. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria felt a bit unsteady on her feet when they boarded, and found herself clutching the railing as the operator revved it into action, but she had to admit, the actual functioning process was absolutely incredible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her gaze never left the machinery, watching intently as the two gears creaked and groaned, shifting against one another with sharp, jostling movements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop, on the other hand, was peering over the edge of the banister, watching the world beneath them grow smaller and smaller. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the final stop, the lift harshly clicked into place, almost throwing Gloria halfway across the platform, though thankfully, she steadied herself at the last second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The operator lowered the railings and allowed them to step off before tipping his hat and cranking the lift back down to assist the next round of occupants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” Oleana wasted no time in firing off her directions. “From here, we go straight ahead to the stadium for a roll-call, there, you will also be given your arena and training uniforms. Make sure you know which are which. Then I’ll take you over to the hotel for the night. The opening ceremony will take place in the morning and then we will be on our way to Wyndon for training week and final assessments. Understood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria nodded, her brain attempting to mentally take note of all the information Oleana had just thrown at her. It sure was a lot, yet then again, the Galar Games were the biggest event of the year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staring down the stadium doors with everything she had, Gloria exhaled a breath and edged over to Hop once more, taking what she hoped looked like a confident first step forward into the unknown. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here we go folksss, we're finally gettin into it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Around the Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have returned.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Gloria could only describe her entrance to Mototstoke Stadium as one of those movie-scene experiences where the protagonist ambles forward into a void of blinding light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The paneled glass doors slid open in a fluid motion, engulfing the party in red trimmed walls. A plush red-orange carpet extended before them, it’s flame like pattering crawling across the floor, only halting at a desk surrounded by other players and sponsors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slightly overwhelmed, Gloria curled one of her hands around her arm, hugging it closer to her body, a tell-tale sign she was nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop seemed to pick up on this right away, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. We’ll go together.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you’ll be fine.” Oleana assured them in her own strange, slightly impatient way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria nodded, intaking a deep inhalation of air, and allowed Hop to lead her down the pathway, gently pushing through the sea of other contestants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching the red-brick registration desk, Hop and Gloria waited patiently in quiet conversation while the Staff assisted the players in front of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So. Motostoke. What do you think?” Hop asked, gesturing to the environment around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria shrugged, her gaze following his movements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Hop agreed, not needing a verbal response to decipher her opinion “Drastically different from Postwick. I don’t see one cornfield anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria couldn’t resist the tiny laugh that escaped her. Hop was always cracking jokes on how Postwick’s greatest tourist attraction was their endless supply of grains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, their conversation was interrupted by a haughty tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you two are done gossiping about </span>
  <em>
    <span>corn</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’d like to actually depart from the stadium before midnight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria glanced up, catching sight of another player, who couldn’t have been any more than fourteen,  glaring at them with heavy annoyance in his sharp, violet stare. His teammate, a short, stocky girl stood a few steps behind him, seeming slightly embarrassed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger rolled his eyes, running a pale hand through his even lighter platinum-blond hair. “Can you not comprehend basic Galarian? I said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>move</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dismissing any kind of reply the two may have had, he shouldered between them, harshly nudging Gloria backwards. Dull pain seared up her arm where he’d hit her. The boy’s companion scurried after him, muttering profuse apologies as she went. “I’m so sorry about Bede. I don’t know what’s gotten into him this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop only responded once they were out of ear shot, “Arceus, what’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No clue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you two ready?” The agitated call of the League Staff broke their pondering over whatever kind of prickle the newcomer must have swallowed this morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes.” Gloria stuttered out, slightly caught off guard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Names?” The older man slid straight to the point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hop Kraiser.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gloria Glaswood.” Gloria remembered her full name this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Staff raised an eyebrow, “Wedgehurst-Postwick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. That’s us.” Hop confirmed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eleven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evident sympathy appeared in the man’s golden eyes as he passed a stack of garments over the counter. “Here. Your training uniforms, you’ll get the official arena garments closer to the time of entrance. And...good luck. You kids be careful in there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Gloria appreciated that not every part of the League were complete and utter heartless assholes, the fact that everyone felt they needed so much pity in the first place unnerved her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, thanks..” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go, you two!” At some point during this strange encounter, Oleana had sidled up behind them, gripping fiercely to their shoulders. “We have things to do, places to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria didn’t protest, but stumbled slightly as Oleana steered them away from the desk, letting the next pair go through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grand doors slid open in their wake, and Gloria was once again met with the chilling air of the waxing dusk. The sky, once vibrant and blue, had now taken on a more indigo tone, the smallest traces of the moon just beginning to shine through. The vast open air extended far across the neighboring plots of land to the industrial town, and Gloria suddenly found herself subconsciously crossing the cobblestone roads to the other side of the street, where an overhanging balcony overlooked the Galarian horizon line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For miles upon miles, as far as she could see, vast open landscape stretched onwards winding between heavy stone pillars and fading away into a distant town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the Wild Area.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria jumped, failing to notice that both Oleana and Hop had followed her across.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oleana now stared out over Gloria’s shoulder, her green eyes fixated on the view before them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re looking at East Lake Axewell.” Her hand gestured to the large body of water that accompanied the rolling hills. “But the Wild Area stretches all the way to Hammerlocke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s beyond that?” Hop was gazing at Oleana as though she held all the answers to the universe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oleana shrugged. “Spikemuth, Circhester, Wyndon, the Isle of Armor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And after that?” He pressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More land and sea, I suppose. No one’s ever really explored past the Galar Region.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop shifted back towards their outlook. “I’d like to see it someday. All of it, not just Galar, I mean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oleana didn’t respond, only looked at him with the same expression she’d held back on the train: guilt, regret, apprehension, as though the only unknown land he'd be seeing was the afterlife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” She finally answered after a tense moment of silence, “it’s time we got to the hotel. Motostoke may be relatively friendly, but remains still a city. It’s no place to be roaming around at night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria nodded, reluctantly turning away from Galar’s beauty. Keeping close to her companions, she padded along the uneven path, keeping her wits about her upon Oleana’s warning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They traveled under the dim glow of flickering street lights, shadows slinking along the brick walls of the neighboring buildings. Every few minutes or so, the three passed a group of tired-looking workers, coming back from the factories and mine, and Oleana would herd Gloria and Hop closer to her side, her sharp eyes never leaving the townsfolk until they’d gone. It only caused Gloria to wonder the kinds of things the older woman had been exposed to in Spikemuth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t too much longer before they reached the hotel, a shabby, beige, concrete building with a failing, green, neon sign reading “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Budew Inn</span>
  </em>
  <span>”. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Similar to the entrance at the Motostoke stadium, the doors were automatic, parting when they sensed the party’s presence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It slightly unsettled Gloria, the concept of all the technological advancements the bigger cities and towns seemed to have. As someone who came from one of the smallest places in Galar, these inventions were far from everyday normalities for her. The fact that this kind of technology existed right under their noses only made her wonder what other pieces of mechanical advancements existed, and were they as trivial as a sliding door, or perhaps something more dangerous, sentient even?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook off her paranoia as Oleana retrieved their key cards from the front desk, placing one in the care of Hop, and ushered them down a hallway to a pair of two rooms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two are in here, I’ll be right across from you. Only wake me if it’s an emergency, please.” She added onto the end, her exasperation hinting that she’d been stuck with some particularly rowdy competitors in previous years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing to worry about.” Hop assured their chaperone. “Gloria and I can handle ourselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oleana nodded, “Good. Then I’ll see you two tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her parting words delivered, the taller woman disappeared into her room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria turned to her remaining companion. “I suppose we’d better turn in too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop agreed, sliding the card into the door handle and pushing down hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entering the fresh smelling area, Gloria had to do a double take at what the two were met with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their room looked more like it was fit for a king rather than a pair of small-town kids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nightly breeze caused sheer, golden curtains to flutter against smooth, eggshell walls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pressed against the walls were two large beds, each fitted with matching blankets and quilts of silver and white. And just to the left of where Hop was standing, a large bathroom stretched before them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa…” was the only phrase either one could manage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping forward, they placed their uniforms on the mahogany bedside tables that resided next to the white headboard, before separating to go through their respective nightly routines. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After going through the necessary motions of preparing herself for bed, Gloria sank into the downy-soft cushion of her mattress and fell onto her back, hands folded across her stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across from her, she heard Hop slipping off his own bed and moving to join her, the mattress dipping a little as he climbed up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think they’re up to right now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria didn’t need any further description to know who he was talking about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged, the fabric of her quilt sliding along her shoulders. “Mom’s probably working still, I’ll bet Grandma’s making her tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lee, Raihan, and I would be watching the Nature Channel right about now.” Hop spoke in a quiet voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria shifted, turning her head towards her friend. Hop had copied her state, sprawled flat on his back, though his glassy gray eyes were turned up at the rough bumps in the powder-white ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m scared, Gloria.” He whispered. “I’ve been pretending not to be, but deep down I’m terrified. I mean, you saw what’s happened to Lee. I don’t want to end up like that, or worse, dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have each other, right?” Gloria wasn’t sure what else to say. She’d never really been put in this position before. Normally it was the other way around, Hop being the one who always had an answer, and Gloria asking all the wrong questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m scared too, Hop. Really scared.” She laughed with hesitation as she said it, the nerves shining through. “No one knows what’s going to happen in that ring. But whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria could see Hop’s face slowly return to normal, but she couldn’t help the pang of guilt that stirred in her stomach from the lack of belief she had in her own words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should probably turn in.” She suggested, not wanting to carry on the conversation any longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop nodded slowly, retreating to his own bed, reaching up to switch off the lights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night, Gloria.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria slipped under her blankets and gave him a half-smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night, Hop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room went dark, and Gloria waited until she heard Hop’s breathing slowly even out before reaching out towards the pocket of her cardigan that hung from her headboard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Running her fingers along the gray fabric, she slipped her hand into one of the pockets and retrieved Signus’ Pokeball, turning it in her hands. If she focused hard enough, she could still feel her Sonia's soft grip pressing it into her palms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tear escaped her eyes as she could only imagine what her mother must be feeling. Her selfish desire to protect Hop had betrayed her in one of the deepest ways. She was willing handing herself over to death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a breath, Gloria slipped the Pokeball back into her pockets and curled around herself in an attempt to fall asleep, a single thought on her brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll be coming home to you. Both of us.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
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</p>
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